“And you told Dmitri the check was in the mail?”
“I told him I wanted out.”
“He reacted badly, I take it.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Which is why you agreed to keep the money flowing.”
“What would you have done in my position?”
Gabriel ignored the question. “And what if you were to have another go at Dmitri?” he asked.
“What sort ofgo?”
“Divorce proceedings.”
“On what grounds?”
“Irreconcilable differences, I imagine.”
“And the settlement?”
“Not another penny.”
“If I were to terminate the marriage,” said Knight, “I imagine Dmitri and his friends in the Kremlin would do their very best to kill me.”
Gabriel smiled. “We can only hope.”
“What the hell are you playing at, Allon?”
Graham answered for him. “He’s not playing at anything, Edward. What he’s doing is offering you a chance at redemption. I would advise you to take it.”
“All I want,” said Knight, slumping in his chair, “is my wife.”
“Sorry, Edward,” said Gabriel. “But I’m afraid Alice is gone for good.”
The room was less than half the size of her walk-in closet at Wickham House. There was space enough for a double bed and a laminated chest of drawers—bright white, of course—but not much else. It was, she thought, a glimpse into the drastically reduced circumstances of her future. Or perhaps not. Notting Hill cottages like this one were hideously expensive these days, thanks in no small part to the greed of real estate investors like her husband.
The sound of his voice was seeping through the floorboards. Poor Edward, it had not been a pleasant conversation. A part of her pitied him; his soiled laundry was now hanging on the line for all to see. She only hoped that he was wise enough to accept their offer. Edwardhad a stubborn streak, especially when he felt cornered. It was one of his least attractive qualities. But then again she could think of not a single one she admired. Not for the first time she wondered why she had married him. Because he was rich, she told herself coldly. She had to face the fact she was one of those girls.
The bed, while small, was moderately comfortable. She was seated on the left side, Edward’s side, with her back against the headboard and her legs crossed at the ankle. Ingrid was next to her, identically posed. Edward’s phone, its distinctive ringtone silenced, lay between them. At present it was pulsating with an incoming call. The screen readliamhiggins.
“Edward’s personal assistant,” explained Alice.
“We’ve met,” replied Ingrid.
“Really? Where?”
“Your husband’s office in Berkeley Square. It was the evening you issued your ransom demand.”
Liam Higgins rang off without leaving a voicemail. Alice took a stab at unlocking the phone, then tossed it aside. “How did you learn to pick pockets like that?”
“I watched a couple of videos. It’s really quite easy once you get the hang of it.”
“Perhaps you could give me a pointer or two. I’m going to need a source of income when this is over.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll take good care of you.”
